Apparently, I grew up poor. I never knew it either! It was actually only a few years ago that my parents told me this news. They were honestly shocked when I didn't believe them. "Don't you remember all the nights we ate BLTs or SOS for dinner? Don't you remember the cinder block shelves we had?"
Umm, yeah, I remember those. I always loved those about my childhood. I MISS those things. They were never associated with being poor; they were associated with being our life. Those damn cinder blocks are hard to find and when I do find them, they are not cheap anymore.
Christmastime always made me feel like the richest girl in the world. The presents were ridiculous! They would radiate out from under the tree and impinge the living room, making the room so much smaller. It was glorious.
I am thankful that my parents did everything they did for us to keep us from knowing we were poor. I never went without anything I needed. Of course, I went without a lot I WANTED but what kid doesn't? Seriously, I always thought we had a lot of money. From what I remember, we always had nice houses, decent cars, and we always had fun. So, it seems, the cars were mostly used, the houses were great deals, but the fun was all free.
It really does not - NOT - matter what you have or how much money. It matters how you spend your time with the time, and people, you have. I don't remember the *stuff* or the money. What I remember is the awesome childhood I had. I remember the constant laughter. I remember the fights and arguments, but I remember that they were usually because we were all strong willed and like-minded.
I remember the BLTs, SOS, and cinder blocks and I will take all of that over filet and Ethan Allen shelves any day of the week.